


Two Words

by Cruel_Irony



Series: Soulmate AUs [2]
Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: Affairs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Blackmail, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-15 13:31:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18499975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cruel_Irony/pseuds/Cruel_Irony
Summary: The name has been written over Harry's heart since he was born, the name of his soulmate, the one destined to love him. It was the sweetest comfort in his darkest moments, when he couldn't quite live up to everyone's expectations of him and the pressure was crushing. James Nightingale.The name appeared on James' chest when he was twelve. If he was capable of rational thought he was have noticed how disconcerting the age difference was, but when he spotted the name one morning while getting dressed, all he could think about was how wrong his father was - someone out there loves him, will love him. Harry Thompson will love him, flaws and all.Another Jarry Soulmate AU





	1. Chapter 1

James hands over the keys with a smirk and one final sly quip before departing. Harry can only stare and look like a gormless idiot. Nothing is making any sense. How could the universe be so cruel? Something starts to hurt, deep inside his chest, but Harry pushes it down and decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and take that damned shower.

As promised, the Dog flat is empty. It’s unnerving, walking around someone else’s house when they aren’t there. The feeling of trespassing, of doing something very very bad, gets worse when he has to look in cupboards for towels and shower gel. He knows he has permission and James would back him up, he hopes, but he still tries to hurry up and get out.

At least that was the plan until he stepped into the shower and felt the hot water and the amazing water pressure. Then all sense of time evaporated. Running his fingers through clean hair, lathering himself up and watching the grime slide away, enjoying the luxuries he had taken for granted all his life, Harry is having the time of his life. He never wants to leave this shower.

Of course, reality comes crashing back down a second later. Harry’s fingers brush against the name branded on his chest, the soulmark that tells him the name of his soulmate, the name he knows better than his own. The tears start to fall then.

Almost everyone has a soulmark, though there are a sparse few exceptions, as with every rule, but they are common place enough that no one batted an eyelid at baby Harry being born with a man’s name above his heart. It was the first thing he learnt to read - the typescript clear as day even upside down - and the first he learnt to write. He has always treasured the notion of someone loving him, flaws and all. It was like a fairytale.

Of course, he’s not delusional, he knows that not everyone is happy with their soulmate and some never meet, which is why he has been in relationships, why he’s currently in one with Ste, because it’s foolish to save himself for one person. But he always knew he would leave Ste for his soulmate in a heartbeat, and he’s sure Ste must know that too. Ste would give anything to have a second chance with his soulmate.

Harry just never expected this - his fairytale imaginings never included unrequited love. It’s the most painful kind of love, Harry has come to realise, loving someone who will never love you back. Because, while Harry’s soulmate is a suave, sophisticated and charming lawyer with a cruel streak that Harry is undeniably attracted to, James’ soulmate is someone else.

There’s no other explanation for why James would mess with him like this; team up with his father to sue him, flirt with his boyfriend, toy with his emotions. If they were soulmates someone would have said something, there would have been a moment of recognition where they both work it out and everything clicks. Except only Harry felt that. The moment he heard James Nightingale’s name the attraction he had been feeling suddenly made sense. But James carried on as if Harry were just another inconsequential toy to be played with and then discarded.

And now Harry is James’ shower, tracing his fingers over the name of the man he can’t have, forcing himself to accept the loveless life he will lead from now. The prospect of living with Ste in a shed, scrounging for his next meal and shivering through winters is bleak and unappealing, but that’s all Harry’s life can be - he may not even finish school and his dad may never talk to him again.

Wiping the tears away with a fist, Harry tries to forget how he falls more in love with James with every second, every snarky word the man says. The shiver that runs down his spine when James looks at him goes straight to his groin, and the casual displays of power and wealth have unlocked something within him. The way he gets on everyone’s nerves but Harry’s, as if he’s made it his life’s mission to annoy everyone in the world, put a rare grin on his face. James really is perfect in every way, at least to Harry.

The shower is still steaming, hot enough to make Harry’s skin flush, and he doubts it will ever go cold, but he’d best get out before anyone comes home. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the soulmark and out him. Harry wraps the towel around his waist and reaches for the clean clothes he had set out on the sink. His hand closes around cold porcelain. He forgot to get out clean clothes.

Thankful that the flat is empty, Harry heads to his duffle bags in the living room but stops dead in the door. His heart starts to pound, the way it always does when James is near, and his eyes drink in the sight of his soulmate lounging on the sofa. It’s only when James looks up from his phone and his face falls, his eyes locked on Harry’s bare chest, that Harry remembers the name written on his chest. Hastily, he clamps his hand over it but the damage is already done.

The phone falls from James’ limp grasp as he stands, still staring numbly at where Harry’s mark is. It’s the first time Harry has seen the man speechless and under different circumstances he might have made a quip of his own.

“Is that…?” James asks, not even able to say it. Harry braces himself for the rejection. If it hurts now, he doesn’t want to imagine how much it will hurt in a few minutes.

Harry nods.

James takes a deep breath and finally looks away. He might be blinking tears away, but that can’t be right. Harry couldn’t bear it if James cried, if he made James cry. Harry is still standing in the door, one hand on his towel the other hiding the words from view. 

“You’ve known all this time? Why didn’t you say anything?” The crack in James’ voice goes straight to Harry’s heart.

Harry’s reply is choked and thick with tears, his heart is cracking with every passing second. “You didn’t.”

It takes a moment but James is smart and when he figures it out the confusion makes way for shame. “I’m sorry, Harry.” And that’s the last thing Harry wanted, for James to feel guilty for not being his soulmate - that’s not something you can control.

“It’s okay. It’s not like you did it on purpose.” Harry tries to smile to cover his sadness, but it’s more of a grimace and James notices. He clears his throat, pushing everything down and out of the way; he can break down and cry later in the Folly, but now he just needs to leave. “Could you, um, pass me my clothes? They’re by my bag.”

James takes a deep breath. Harry thinks distantly that they both compartmentalise and don’t like public displays of vulnerability, and that thought just makes the ache return. James finds the jeans and shirt easily and hold them out, keeping as much distance between them as possible.

Harry hesitates before moving his hand away from his chest and taking his clothes. James’ eyes are immediately drawn to his name inked over Harry’s heart. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Harry can’t pull himself away, not when he’s pinned by James’ piercing gaze like this. He needs to leave, he needs to cover up his stupid mark, he needs to be as far from temptation as possible.

Harry thinks James might have left first, in the end, but one minute they were standing in the middle of the living room, a foot away from each other stuck in one long heartbreaking moment, the next Harry was changing clothes in the bathroom and James was no where to be found. He knows they did nothing inappropriate, but he wishes they had.

Harry’s phone buzzes and he knows without looking that it’s Ste, calling to ask loudly where he is and when he’s coming aback to their shack. In some ways, the secret is no longer weighing him down, but now everything will be ten times as awkward whenever he sees James.

With a put upon sigh Harry picks up his bag, and makes a hasty retreat from the Dog.


	2. Chapter 2

The following weeks were torture for Harry, a personal hell. Avoiding James was a full-time job, they seemed to run into each other even more post-confession than before. He and his mother were constantly around his dad’s restaurant whenever Harry felt the need to seek out his dad. Ste’s trail at the Dog lead to a full-time job and he insists on having Harry there during his shifts like some wayward child who would get in trouble the second his back is turned, which means inevitably seeing James, who lives upstairs. And each time their eyes lock across the room or across the street Harry is hit with an intense blow of longing. He knows James also feels something, guilt or another ugly feeling, by the way he averts his gaze and walks the other way.

This nauseating dance they play is only worsened by Ste’s insistence that James had been flirting with him and fancied him. Despite Harry knowing that James isn’t Ste’s soulmate - that title goes to some man named Brendan - there is still the possibility that Ste is James’ - a very, very, very slim possibility.

Thankfully for Harry’s sanity, James has refrained from flirting overtly with Ste where Harry can see. But James’ concern for his feelings only serves to heighten Harry’s feelings, like some primal, caveman desire to be taken care of, to be someone’s priority even for one second. He can only dream of how great it would be if they were actually dating.

But they aren’t dating. They aren’t even friends. Which is what makes it odd when James, instead of averting his eyes when Harry passes his table outside the Hutch, calls him over as if they were old friends.

“Harry! There’s something I need to run by you.”

Out of curiosity and an inability to ignore his soulmate, Harry obliges and takes the seat James kicks out for him. Harry worries at his lip and avoids looking James in the eye. James may not want to keep to the rules of their informal arrangement, but Harry will. He waits for James to start talking.

“I’m sure you’re aware of what’s going on with the restaurant. Your father is running it into the ground and my mother and I are willing to dig him out of his hole, but he’s being particularly obstinate.”

“You mean, you want a restaurant to compete with your dad’s pub and you’re willing to undermine and sabotage my dad to get it?” Harry remarks back, quickly. James’ smile warms Harry’s heart.

“Touché.” James chuckles, his eyes lighting up. “Regardless, I think we both know that there’s only one way this ends. Tony is in debt. I have a successful career in criminal law and my mother is rich in her own right. He needs to sell.”

“Why are you telling me?” There’s a funny feeling in Harry’s stomach. He didn’t think James would be the type to exploit a soulmate bond, even one unrequited. Of course he’s under no illusions about James’ ethics - the man is a sneak, sly and conniving - and he would have him no other way, but he’d thought the bond would be off limits, especially with how he acted when he found out.

To his credit, James fidgets uncomfortably as he asks, “I was hoping you would talk some sense into your father? Not for me, but for him. He’s stubborn and at the rate he’s going he’ll end up in big trouble with loan sharks and debt collectors before he thinks about selling to me and my mother.” He pauses. “I would be asking you even if you weren’t…”

Harry breathes a sigh of relief.

“What do you expect me to do? My dad won’t listen to me. We barely even have a relationship these days.”

“There are other ways.”

Harry sighs. “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

James nods. “I do. But you can always aback to - I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

‘Could this man be more perfect?’, Harry thinks, restraining his lovestruck smile. ‘Why can’t he be mine?’

James pays his bill, and Harry follows him helplessly, caught in his magnetic field, to James’ new flat by the Tug Boat. Inside, it is a maze of boxes and bubblewrap, but beneath the chaos the flat has been rather stylishly decorated.

“Are you moving out of the Dog?” Harry asks tentatively while James hunts for the teapot.

He answers distractedly, “My mother and I. Being near my father isn’t good for either of us.”

Harry spots the teapot and hands it over, also retrieving some teabags from a nearby box.

“Thank you.”

The water boils and the tea is made, only then does James sit down across from Harry and turn to business. The change in his face is remarkable, smooth and relaxed one second, steely and determined the next.

“My plan is simple: blackmail. So, are there any dark secrets Tony would want to stay secret?”

Harry has to scoff. “Nothing in this village says secret. If he had something to hide it would be spread around the village faster than wildfire. Anything worth blackmailing him over is common knowledge.”

“Surely some things can be secret?” James asks, sipping his tea. “Well, what would you suggest? How can we get Tony panicked enough to sell his livelihood to two people he hates?”

“Since when was it ‘we’?”

“Since you came to my flat and implicitly agreed to help me scheme against your own father. Like it or not, we are a team now.”

Harry’s stomach flutters. This is what it’s meant to be like, he thinks. This kind of easy camaraderie would trick anyone into thinking they were destined to be together. The loyalty Harry has to his father is still there, but James really is logical - it would save his dad in the long run if he sold to James. And if it means spending more time with James in the process, then what’s the harm?

“There was this one time in Spain.” Harry offers. “We got involved with some thugs and dad would do anything to keep me safe.”

James looks like Christmas and his birthday have come at once. “Who’d have thought a father’s love would save the day? We’ll just make him choose: his son or his restaurant. We know he’s in debt, it won’t be stretch to get him involved with a loan shark or two.”

Harry chokes on his tea. “Wait, wait. You’re planning to threaten my life if my dad doesn’t sell you the Hutch? That’s pretty dark stuff, are you insane?”

“Harry, clam down. I’m not actually going to be threatening you, and Tony won’t know it’s me - to him it will be some faceless and nameless loan shark. It will only appear as if your life is being threatened. Rough you up a bit and take some scared photos, a man like Tony will cave in seconds under that kind of pressure. Good idea, Harry.”

Head in his hands, Harry groans. Though he suggested the idea in the first place, he never thought about executing it. But… it’s not like it’s happening for real. James isn’t a loan shark, he’s not a thug. He’ll look after Harry. He trusts him.

“Fine. It is a good plan. But neither of us can get into trouble for this, and no one can find out - blackmail is illegal. So we can’t leave any indication that it’s a set-up.”

“I knew you were smart, Harry. I can get my mother to drop hints to Tony, and then we get to work. More tea?”

Harry stays to iron out the creases in their plan. The more they go over it, the more comfortable he gets. James is an incredible manipulator and schemer, Harry suspects it comes with being a criminal lawyer. He also gets the impression this isn’t the first time James has blackmailed someone. Of course, being told that he’ll have to be punched for real and that the bruises have to be authentic is terrifying - no one likes being punched, and being punched by the man who’s name is tattooed on your chest is even more horrifying - but the way James reassured him did a little to soothe his worries.

When Harry leaves for the night to return to the Lomax’s flat, to share a bed with Ste and come up with another excuse for not having sex and exposing his chest, he replays the hours he spent with James in his mind. It was effortless, even when plotting blackmail, as if they had been friends for years.

The memories of his meetings with James keep him going as the weeks go on. As Marnie plants the seeds in Tony’s head, as Tony’s debt racks up, James continues to call him and text him and meet with him. And it’s not always about their scheme. He asks how Harry’s day has been, about his coursework and his friends, about everything but the name written on his chest.

When James calls him to start the final phase, Harry’s stomach is doing flips. He tells himself it’s nerves about their plan, because anything else would be fruitless nerves - nerves for the sake of nerves. He gives Ste a quick excuse, kissing him chastely on the cheek, before hurrying to meet James at his flat.

Over the weeks the flat has been unpacked and now resembles a home more than a tip. Harry is proud to say that he has had a hand in setting up the flat with James. He’s even gotten on with Marnie, on occasion even teaming up with her against James about photo frames or some other banality. It’s bittersweet, knowing that their partnership will be over soon.

Now, James is waiting for him with a reassuring smile. Harry grins back. James checks that he’s okay with the plan - checks and double checks - before readying the camera to take the photos.

“Wait.” Harry calls out, stopping James just as he lifts the camera to his face.

Immediately, James reaches out for Harry and looks deep in his eyes. “We don’t have to do this. There are other ways.”

“No, it’s not that. We should just take it somewhere else, somewhere with a blank background. With that angle, you’ll get the picture frame in shot.” Harry explains.

“That’s your only concern? And it’s rather inconsequential. A corner of a picture frame?”

“It’s a risk - and we can’t take it. That wall would be better.”

James rolls his eyes, but the quirk of his lips gives away how impressed he is. “Okay, then.”

James takes the pictures, and they choose the one that is the most convincing. Harry is no actor. He can lie sometimes, but he’s never paid much attention to how he looks when he’s doing it. Thankfully, James makes no mention of his incompetence. He sends it to Tony, then turns to Harry, apologetic smile already in place.

Although this part has been planned for weeks, it’s still a terrifying, adrenaline filled moment when James’ fist connects with his face and when he has to squeeze Harry’s wrists and bicep crushingly tight to leave bruises. James distracts Harry form the pain by venting about his caseload at work and Harry listens, because God knows the rest of James’ family won’t. James’ fingers are gentle and soft as they brush the blossoming bruises. He even has ice packs ready to press to them before he leaves.

“Are you alright, Harry? I’m sorry.”

Harry puts his hand over James’, squeezing reassuringly. “I’ve told you a thousand times, I am fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been punched, and it’s not like you meant any of it maliciously. This was discussed and consent was given - I’m pretty sure you have a contract written up just in case I asked for it. James, everything is fine. Now, I’ve got to go and convince my dad that I was kidnapped by loan sharks and beaten up. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

As Harry turns to leave, James catches his arm - gently, tenderly, as if Harry’s was made of glass, as if James was capable of hurting him properly. Harry turns, confused. James opens his mouth but no words come out. He swallows nervously, and then leans in to capture Harry’s lips with his own. Harry doesn’t have the self-control to push James away. This man is his soulmate and he kissed him! He won’t pass up this chance if this is the only one he will get.

James pulls away, breathless.

“But…” Harry whispers. “I’m not your… your soulmate.”

“I don’t care. I’m kissing you.”

Jame leans in for another. Harry meets him halfway, hungry for more. It’s only when they realise that they have a plan to enact that they separate properly. With a promise to come back as soon as he can, Harry heads home to play his role to perfection.


	3. Chapter 3

“What kind of sick game are you playing?” Harry cries, shoving James off him and leaping from the bed. His stomach is turning violently. He thinks he might be sick. He clenches his eyes closed but the words are burnt on the back of his eyelids.

How could this happen? How did he deserve a fate such as this? How did he deserve a soulmate who would play a trick like this? Is Harry just another pawn, another victim, to James?

“Harry. I know it hurts, seeing another man’s name on your soulmate’s chest. But I have never met them and I don’t want to, because I choose you. I wish it was your name over my heart.” James pleads earnestly. He’s putting himself on the line, the vulnerability shining in his eyes is impressive. Harry must applaud his acting skills.

“Why are you doing this to me? You really are heartless. I never should have gotten involved with you.” Harry spits. He picks up his discarded shirt and throws James’ at him with as much force as he can muster.

He had returned to the Nightingale flat as soon as he could after convincing his family he had been kidnapped and beaten up by loan sharks - a role he played quite well, he thinks. Everyone was doting, an experience Harry revelled in despite the circumstances, and Tony was quick to sell the restaurant - he went straight to James that very day. It was evening, Harry had slipped away from a slumbering Ste and headed straight to James’. He had wanted to finish what they had started.

When he had arrived, business came first. James was eager to know is Harry was believed and taken care of by his family, and Harry was happy to hear about how pleased Marnie was, and James, too. Once the formalities were out of the way, it was Harry who initiated the first kiss, but James reciprocated easily. It wasn’t long until they retired to the bedroom.

Harry had been nervous, far more nervous than he could ever imagine being before sex. James’ name is tattooed on his chest, and usually sex between soulmates is a treasured experience, once to be remembered and revered. But when your soulmate has another’s name, the experience is tinged with heartache. That was what Harry had been expecting, to see a name that wasn’t his, to know that however much he loves this man in front of him, there is always the chance that he will love someone else.

It’s a different dynamic to him and Ste. In that case they both knew that neither were their soulmate going in, Harry never felt guilty about eventually leaving when Ste would also have that chance. But, with James, he will be it for Harry, the one.

Harry had braced himself, telling himself that if he just doesn’t look then everything will be fine. James had been understanding, waiting for consent before moving on, seeming just as anguished but determined as Harry. It had been going so well, until he had decided to unbutton Jame’s shirt, silencing the man with a passionate kiss. They had fallen back onto the bed, hands roaming. It was only when Harry pulled away to focus on undoing James’ belt that it caught his eye. Even in the dim light he could make out his own name.

“What? Harry, I don’t understand. Where is all this coming from?” James was confused, caught off guard, and it showed. If Harry wasn’t so enraged, he’d be smug. It’s not everyday that one gets the upper hand against James Nightingale.

“Are you that cruel and sadistic? Or do you just not care for anyone but yourself? Not even your… your soulmate!”

“I am completely lost. If you don’t start making sense soon, Harry, then I think you should leave.”

Harry steps forward and pokes James’ chest, right over the soulmark. “You let me think it wasn’t me. You made me think I would be unloved for the rest of my life, and then you start this affair. All this time it has been my name on your heart - mine! Does it make you feel superior, so above everything else, when you mess me around like that?”

“No. It’s not yours.”

“I think I know my own name, James.”

James goes deathly quiet, frozen where he sits, staring into space. Harry should probably leave. The tears streaming down his face are humiliating - a manifestation fo his heartbreak when he’s trying to be strong and angry - and now would be the perfect time, James can’t stop him in his daze. He should leave, but his feet won’t cooperate. Part of his wants to slap James silly and never see his treacherous face again, but… this man is his soulmate, and he should at least hear his side. And the. He can get on with never seeing him again.

Slowly, James comes round, blinking and gaping like a fish. “I’ve had my soul mark since I was twelve. My father wasn’t happy that it was a man, but the rest of my family were kind and understanding. I stayed strong through everything he did to me, I have accepted the man I have become, I have endured so much… because I always knew that my soulmate would love me, flaws and all. I have cherished the name on my chest since it first appeared. I would never be cruel to them.” It’s like James is in a trance, lost in his own contemplations. “It isn’t your name, Harry. I’m sorry. My heart broke for you when I saw my name on your chest and I kept away to spare you any pain. I am your soulmate, but you are not mine. It’s very complicated. But you are irresistible to me, and I hoped I might indulge. The more I get to know you, the more I wish it was your name.”

Harry shakes his head. Is James really this stupid, or is he still lying?

“What’s my name?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s my name? If you think you know it, tell me.”

James hesitates, as if doubting his certainty. “Harry Hutchinson.”

Harry shakes his head, a small smile curling his lips. It’s endearing, James’ misunderstanding. Could this all have been avoided if they had just introduced themselves? James got his name wrong and jumped to conclusions.

“My parents weren’t married, they weren’t soulmates, and my dad has never brought up changing my name. He didn’t even know I existed until I was eight. I have my mother’s surname. Thompson. My name is Harry Thompson. My name is on your chest - I am your soulmate, and you are mine.”

James’ jaw hangs loose on its hinges. He stares at Harry as if he has grown a second head. “You’re kidding?”

“No. You can check my birth certificate if you like.”

James stands and hesitantly approaches Harry, who eagerly closes the distance. “We’re soulmates. What I feel isn’t an illusion. It’s real?”

“What we feel is real. I guess it just proves how right the soul marks are.” Harry jokes, lightening the mood. His gaze is brought aback to the words still exposed on James’ chest - Harry Thompson - and he raises a hand to trace the letters of his own name. James shivers delicately beneath him.

“So… soulmate,” James wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him closer. “Where were we?”

Their previous upset is forgotten, a little bump in the road long past, just a story to tell their families and laugh about. Their minds turn to more enjoyable things. Things like being together as soulmates, united finally, properly.


End file.
